


Indigo Flower Viewing

by Blue_hare



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Inspired by Doujinshi, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-30 23:10:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19413376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_hare/pseuds/Blue_hare
Summary: How much longer till you remember?How much longer will the cycle continue?How much till I or you or the wheel breaks?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the brilliant and talented Two-Frame's work on Taisho Japan Eruri. This one takes place after the Third part. So spoilers in case you've not seen/read this work.

. 

. 

. 

It’s quiet outside. 

A cotton like silence that fresh fallen snow provokes in the outside world. 

Spirals of smoke - tobacco breath - waft up into the pearlescent sky. 

“Hmm...It will snow again.” 

A blue gaze lazily travels to a branch - _ploop_ \- the heavy snow falls at last. It’s weight to much for that slender _sakura_ branch. 

He sighs wondering how much longer the cold will last for the autumn had barely lasted. 

“Talking to yourself is the first sign of senility.” 

_His_ footsteps have not changed. Soft and feline and so very easy for him to miss. 

He turns around, feeling heavier and lighter all at once. 

“You’re back.” 

“I’m back.” 

Youth suits him. It always has. 

He’s taken his coat off and stands at the doorway with his eye-brow raised as if to mock him. 

_Familiar. So familiar._

“You should take care to keep warm.” he steps back inside, making sure not to brush past him. “Have you come for another book Mr. Ackerman?” 

He misses said persons frown. 

“I’m fine and shouldn't it be oldtimers that should worry about the cold. I’ve heard it affects their stiff joints.” 

The door slides closed. He follows the tail end of that emerald shall to the front of the bookstore. It always feels as though he is avoiding him leaving him to chase after. 

“And no I haven’t come for a book.” 

That strong back pauses, broad shoulders stiffening beneath that mauve silk _haori_ before continuing to the front. 

“Please, take a seat esteemed customer.” He motions to the cushion by the table. 

“I’ve told you to call me---”

He interrupts him and ignore his furrowed brow and downturned lips. 

“I hope this tea is to your liking.” 

Grey eyes linger at the interruption and at that blonde bastards continued ignorance and stubbornness. The scent of the tea pacifies him. He reaches for the cup, fingers curling over the rim. He wonders if that flicker of pain had been an illusion as the steam thaws his cold fingertips. He’d forgotten his mittens at school in the rush to get here...to the bookshop...to him. 

The tea is good. It always is. 

“You’re not gonna have any?” He’s just realized there's only one cup. 

“No. I dislike tea.” 

He frowns, meaning to ask why it is that he keeps tea in stock then, when he sees him reach for that blasted silver cigarette box. He reaches it and snatches it away before the other can take it. 

“I hate that fucking smell.” he wrinkles his nose. “Disgusting.” 

“Mind your language.” 

He snorts at his response and turns the box in hand. 

“It causes cancer you know. Turns your lungs black and your teeth yellow.” 

“Than it sounds like you will keep away from them. It’s good to know that today’s youth will learn of us senile mens mistakes.” 

“You could stop.” 

“I could,” he extends his large hand, “but I won’t.” 

“Fucker.” 

The tea is getting cold. 

“Can you at least not smoke in front of me? _Your esteemed customer_ as you put it.” 

“Ahh but you aren’t that at all.” 

“Then what am I?” 

The blonde pauses thoughtfully. 

“Who knows. A bratty middle schooler if I had to guess.” 

His response freezes him with angry and surprised humiliation. He stands up abruptly, nearly falling back with his legs gone numb. Still not used to sitting in that position for so long,

“You’re a shit bookshop owner!” It angers him that the other doesn’t seem phased at all. 

He’s nearly at the entrance when his voice calls out, calm as always. 

“My cigarettes, _esteemed customer.”_

“Fuck you asshole,” he tosses them back at him.” Die shitty, senile, old man! See if I fucking care.” 

The box lands next to the cup with the cooling tea and _he’s_ gone nearly as fast as he came. 

Erwin reaches for the box and takes out a cigarette. From his pocket he takes out the lighter and traces the engraved initials - L.A. to E.S. - he lights up and inhales deeply. The smoke spires out from his nose. 

_“You look like some fucking dragon.”_

He rinses the tea cup and throws away the rest of the tea, and heads back outside with the green shawl wrapped around his shoulders. 

It’s begun to snow softly - more flower petals than snowflakes. 

He eyes the trees and exhales slowly, thinking of a kiss beneath a scatter of pink petals long ago. 

He sighs tiredly, sliding down the wall until he is next to the large black pot. The scent of soil familiar.

He wonders if the camellia will finally bloom this year. 

“You must be angry at me. I’ve upset you with my smoking and my immature ways.” he chuckles brokenly. “What a fool I was thinking to stay and look after your shop. Is that the reason why they haven’t bloomed since you died.” 

Erwin Smith thinks back to that students words about senility and chuckles further. 

Levi Ackerman, that is his name and he refuses to call him by it. 

_How much longer till you remember?_

_How much longer will the cycle continue?_

_How much till I or you or the wheel breaks?_

. 

. 

. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who is it that you call out by my name?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this part already written. Enjoy.

. 

. 

. 

He huffs and puffs, coughing twice, as the snow falls softly around him. 

He feels childish. 

Levi wonders why he keeps going back?” 

_Fucking stupid question._

It's only as he reaches his house and his mom calls out, asking if he wants tea, that he realizes something. In that book shop, with that stubborn blonde bastard, the water for the tea had been already prepared. He pauses as he takes his wet shoes off, heart immediately beating faster with that realization. The water had been left to boil before he came…He inhales sharply. 

_He knew I was coming. He was waiting for me._

He can’t help the sudden burning of his ears or the hitch in his breath. 

“Levi did you hear me?” 

His mothers ask’s from behind him when he doesn’t immediately answer. She approaches her son and places the back of her hand on his forehead, brushing his bangs away. 

“Darling you’re all red and flushed.” her voice is worried. “Have you caught a fever. Come inside and get warmed up. I don't want us to go to the hospital.” 

Levi lets himself be ushered in to the living room where his mother, Kuchel, further nags at him and scolds him for not wearing his mittens. She places a cup of tea in his hands and watches, as mothers often do, him drink the hot tea. He's realized something else. 

Besides his mother and that bastard Kenny, no one else knows how he takes his tea. No one. 

How can it be that he does? 

“Finish your tea while I go and prepare you a hot bath.” 

He has one more cup before he takes the bath his mother prepared. It smells of menthol, his mother must have added some to the bathwater. Levi relaxes himself and thinks of how lonely the books shops owner looked as he gazed at the falling snow. 

Using that pretext of loneliness Levi resolves to go back the next day and the one after. How ever many more it will take till that bookshop owner doesn't look as lonely. Until he tells Levi his name and begins using his name instead of the distant, “esteemed customer.” 

The thought of hearing his name (again) in that deep baritone has Levi cheeks burning and he plunges beneath the bath water. 

. 

Levi comes back the next day and just as he had concluded he finds the teapot left on low heat. The place is quiet and he waits for the owner to come strolling in while he browses through the scrolls and books. He still finds it hard to read some of the more complicated Kanji but he makes do. He decides to make himself a cup of tea and considers making some for _him_ when he remembers that he doesn't like it. He finishes his first cup and wonders where that Blondie could possibly be. 

He glances around, more freely, without the weight of that intense blue gaze. 

It's a strange book shop. 

Not that Levi has much experience in such a place. Japan being very different from Germany, at least from what he can remember…They had just left so quickly, almost as soon as he was cleared to leave the hospital from whence he woke up. In retrospect, it was for the best. His mother's health had deteriorated in the months since he was bedridden. It was the least he could do - to simply agree to leaving Germany - given the heartache and grief he inflicted on her. 

The house they were staying at had belonged to his half Japanese cousins mother. It was in disuse given that they had a bigger house of their own. Mikasa’s mother tutored Levi in Japanese and his family was very thankful for that. Combined with school he was more or less better able to communicate with the locals. He'd been meaning to read some of the books Auntie had recommended when he first came to this bookshop. 

It had been snowing lightly outside, just like yesterday. He'd been shivering beneath their required schools cloak when he first stepped through the sliding doors. 

“Welcome---.” The deep voice immediately cut off. 

He called out a greeting, looking up from wiping his shoes free of snow. 

“I’m looking for a book---” 

The owner had frozen before approaching, placing his large hands on his shoulders, a desperate, disbelieving look to his wide blue eyes. 

“I---Levi. You're here. You're okay? How?” 

“Y---you know my name? I came to buy a book. I did not know Auntie had told you my name.” 

Because, surely, that was the only explanation, as to how and why this man, who he had just met, knew his name. He watched the mans face shift before him; the blue of his eyes looking at him and yet not seeing him. And then he let go of his shoulders, his arms dropping as if they weighed more than anything and his face fell into a devastated look of quiet realization. 

When he reached for his hands, Levi let him. It might have been because his hands were warm or because he looked as if he - with that hopelessly, longing gaze - would cry. Levi was transfixed as he, not only held his hand, but raised it gently, close to his lips as if to bestow a kiss upon his cold hand. 

“I understand.” 

Levi did not. 

He only felt his cheeks warm with heat and his heart race. They were so very near. His eyes were closed so that Levi could not help but inhale at the pale - nearly white gold - of the man’s long eyelashes. His breath was warm across his red with cold knuckles, his voice deep, sounding resigned, and scratchy from disuse. 

“It’s begun again. This cycles we've been caught in.” 

Levi was dazed and confused by his strange gesture and even stranger words. Yet, he found that he could think of nothing to say. He was no longer cold, in fact, he felt warmer than ever before. 

The man dropped his hand gently, slowly, and stepped back. The cold air rushed between them and Levi couldn't help but feel disappointment. 

“Forgive me, esteemed customer.” he looked at him, eyes distant, face blank. “You mentioned you came for a book.” 

Levi felt as if he were caught in some strange dream by how fast this man had changed. 

“I...Yes.” 

He inquired after the title and he handed it over, sliding it to him. Something that seemed incredibly purposeful and silly considering how he had held his hand, so carefully, minutes ago. 

Levi paid and left having nothing else to do or say. 

It was only as he left, did he remember that he did not ask for the man’s name. He turned his head around, his eyes wide as he stared at the man standing outside in the cold with that cloth, - the _haori_ \- draped over his western style shirt and trousers. He did not know why he did it, but he raised his hand and waved goodbye. A stupid thing to do, especially when the man did not wave back but simply retreated back inside. 

Despite how utterly foolish he felt he was warm as he made his way home. 

That night, instead of beginning his school work as was routine, he read that book. 

It took a week before he finally gave in to that strange pull and went back. 

Presently Levi grows impatient and perhaps slightly worried when Blondie does not appear. 

He gets up and wonders to the back. He pauses when he sees a glass bottle on a desk. It’s empty and he recognizes it as one of the marble drinks he’s seen at school. There’s a dried stem flower inside, an iris...and the sight of it is just...odd. He continues to the back and curses not having yet found out his name. So he calls “Blondie” and “Oi” instead. 

There is no answer and Levi feels overcome with a sudden bout of loneliness. Outside the wind rattles the sliding door and Levi looks up in the direction of the noise. 

“It’s so quiet.” 

He is overcome with a sense of dejavu and wonders if he’s said that before, in this book shop. 

He finds the book shop owner in a room he has not been in before. 

He is fast asleep and so very still that unwillingly Levi feels his heart stop in unwarranted terror. He approaches him, kneeling down, beside the _tatami_ mat, and reaches with his hand so that it hovers over his nose. He feels the soft air and it calms the frightened rattling of his heart. 

_He is still breathing._

He retreats his hand but does not get up to leave. Taking this chance he looks his hungry fill of the blonde man with the pale gold eyelashes. He catalogues the faint freckles on the slope of his cheekbones, on his nose, the faint mole just below his lip. The scar on his temple gives him pause and he stares, long and hard, wondering how he could have gotten it. He reaches out to trace it and brushes his gold hair away. He carts his hand through the gold tresses, admiring how soft it is. 

_How deeply you sleep._

It’s not very long before Levi realizes what he is doing and begins to feel like a voyeur and retreats his hand. He does not leave, instead he takes hold of the book lying just next to where the slumbering man's head lays and opens up to the book marked page. It's a poetry book transcribed by hand and written in Hiragana. He wonders whether it was him that did so, however, as he continues reading, he notes the change in handwriting. 

He looks from one page to the other noticing the difference. One neat, almost too neat, hardly different from what he's seen in printed school books. The other is long and sloped and somehow he knows that that was _his_ writing. He continues reading unable to wonder _who_ it is that the neater writing belongs to. 

He becomes so immersed in his reading that he doesn't notice the blue eyes gazing at him, not until he speaks. 

“Levi.” His voice is soft, heavy with sleep and unmistakable fondness. “You’re here.” 

He startles eyes wide at the smile on his face.

“I thought you were mad at me. You’ve hardly visited me.” 

Levi is not sure why he doesn’t protest this because, although he was mad, - really more embarrassed - he has come to this bookshop nearly everyday. 

“I’m glad at least you’ve appeared in my dreams.” He reaches for his hand and holds on to it, running his thumb on his knuckles. “I’ve missed you.” 

“You’re hand is cold.” He yawns, eyes drowsy with sleep. Before he closes them, he quietly pleads. 

“Stay.” 

Levi stays, book forgotten, as he watches the wetness on the corner of those closed blue eyes slide down to the pillow. He inhales and shudders, right hand still enveloped in the much larger and warmer hand. 

_Why have you never called my name since that first day?_

“Who is it that you call out by my name?” 

Levi leaves far later than usual, heart fluttering as he recalls leaning down to place a kiss on golden hair. 

He still has many questions and no name for that golden-haired book shop owner. 

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. 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know your thoughts thus far. Have any you read Two-Frames work?

**Author's Note:**

> Two Frames 4 works for this AU are my favorites and I hope I am able to evoke some of that tone and atmosphere with this work. O have not been able to see the fourth part but have seen a sample on pixiv so this is my au for that fourth part. The original tittle to the last part is Haginohanami. I tried to find the English meaning and so that's the tittle. Please let me know if you know the meaning? Thank you for reading and leave a comment/kudos if you can/like it. :)


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